


Lorn (adj. desolate, forsaken)

by Wintercameandwent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Read that fic!, That story is amazing, The inspiration comes from the fic Family Duty Honor, Written by FromTheBoundlessSea, not my idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 01:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintercameandwent/pseuds/Wintercameandwent
Summary: How I imagine Celia discovers Jaime's betrayal.





	Lorn (adj. desolate, forsaken)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FromTheBoundlessSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheBoundlessSea/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Family, Duty, Honor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059177) by [FromTheBoundlessSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheBoundlessSea/pseuds/FromTheBoundlessSea). 

> So FromTheBoundlessSea has this amazingly addictive fic called _Family, Duty, Honor _that I just can't seem to set aside. In that story Jaime Lannisters marries and finds himself falling in love with his wife and the family they have built. Meanwhile he is keeping a very destructive secret from this same wife and family. Each chapter builds you up for what is going to be the most EPIC of revelations. After reading The_wolf_of_Winterfell inspiration story _What could have been_, which derived from the same original fic, I was encouraged to write a "what if fic" of my own. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy running wild with my imagination, and while I had fun writing this I doubt it will hold a candle to how FromTheBoundlessSea will conclude their story. I encourage you to find the original story...read it...you will not regret it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

“Mama. I am bored.”

Celia turns away from her writing table, setting her quill down, she looks over at her youngest child...Joanna. A mirror to her older sister, with blue eyes instead of Lannister green, the five-year-old little girl stands before her mother beseeching her to keep her entertained. Smiling at her little one, she think of the letter from Cat that sits before her. Perhaps she can keep her daughter entertained while returning to her task. 

A budding artist, Joanna enjoys drawing pictures for her family, using this knowledge she plants an idea in the young girls head. “You know I am writing your Aunt Catelyn. I think she would love to receive a letter from you. Would you like to write her as well?”

The red curls bounced as Joanna jumps up in excitement. “Yes, Mama. Can I? I am going to get my special writing paper and colors.”

As soon as Joanna spoke her thoughts she ran clear out of Celia’s solar. Laughing at her youngest antics, she returns to her missive before her. Not completely lost in thought, as a mother is always listening for her young cubs, she hears Joanna setting herself up to “write” her own letter to her aunt. Occasionally Celia looks over to see Joanna laying down on the ground surrounded by papers, different colored ink pots, and quills scattered around her. She smiles as she continues with addressing her own correspondence. 

Concerned about the letter she just received from her older sister, it seems as though their middle sister suspects that her husband’s death was potentially not due to natural causes, and that is why Ned accepted King Robert’s request to serve as the new Hand of the King. As Celia tries to quell her sister drastic suspicions, she proceeds to ask Cat what purpose would it serve to kill Jon Arryn...as the man was beloved by most of the country, especially, after the Rebellion. Just as she just wrote her last sentence to reassure her older sister that there was no cause for conspiracy, and that Lysa was just being...well, Lysa, she looked over to Joanna once again. 

Seeing that there were words written on the parchment Joanna was working on, Celia could make out that it was her husband’s hand, but she could not see the words clearly. Hoping she could salvage the letter, and praying Jaime wouldn’t be too vexed by this minor inconvenience, she calls Joanna over. “Sweetling would you bring me that letter...it looks so lovely, but I think that perhaps Papa has already written on it. 

Joanna’s bright Tully eyes raise to meet her mother’s, with a smile on her lips, she scampers over to Celia, proudly holding up her _ “letter”._ “Here it Mama. Do you think Aunt Catelyn would like it? I drew Uncle Ned’s big sword. I think his sword name is funny. Can she share her letter with him for me?” Celia smiles at the thoughtfulness of her child. The little girl who is shy, but never around her Northern uncle. With a smile gracing her lips, Celia turns the letter over to read the words her husband had written. 

_ “Dearest Cersei,_

_I believe a betrothal is too soon. Our son and my daughter haven’t even begun their first year of life. Let them grow up as we were not able to. Besides, perhaps they will fall in love with someone else. We shouldn’t—” _

Time froze. A loud echo of her heart beating against her chest, vibrating loudly in her ears. Celia’s smile slipped from her lips; her visage so changed that it was noticeable by a young child. “Mama, are you okay? Did I do something bad?”

Barely hearing her daughter’s voice, she swallows hard, trying to find her voice. Forcing her lips to smile, her voice sounding overly cheerful to her own ears. “Oh, no Joanna. You did nothing wrong? In fact, I think this letter may be just what Aunt Catelyn and Uncle Ned need to help them settle into Kings Landing. Why don’t you find Avari? I would like to speak with her.”

The cloud that covered Joanna’s eyes cleared hearing her mother’s praise. “Alright. Mama.” Without further thought to what she just placed into her mother’s hands; Joanna runs out the door to do Celia’s bidding.

Celia stands. Her mind reeling. _ Our son, our son, our son..._ He has a son with Cersei. A son with his sister. A son he watched come into the world, as he was absent for the daughter who shortly followed. My husband has been sleeping with his sister...Oh the Gods, are all those golden-haired children his? Unable to remain standing Celia finds her legs collapsing from under her. Breath seemed so hard to come by, though her chest heaved in effort to take in air. Why couldn’t she breath? Why couldn’t she see? Raising a hand to her face, she felt the wetness from the tears she could not feel. 

“Ce, are you okay?” Avari calls out to her. 

“Avari, stay where you are Dear. I have just received some distressing news. I just need some time to myself. Keep the children away from the solar.”

“And Ser Jaime?” The young woman asked, concern lacing her words. 

Licking her lips, her breathes seeming shallower on each inhalation, she finds herself answering, “You may share what I have told you.”

“Ce, are you sure your—”

“Please go Avari,...please.” her words falter, her eyes pleading with her young friend to let her inquiry go. Grateful that her plea was heard, Avari spared her one last look before she closed the door. Just as the door clicked shut, all the strength Celia had left vanished, and down she crumpled to the ground as an anguished cry for the betrayal of her love...a betrayal she never foresaw, tore through her womb, traveled to her heart, and died with her voice.

\----------------

Jaime and his son Arthur, spent most of the day in Lannisport monitoring a small dispute between a couple of merchants. As his father taught him, Jaime has several years teaching his own son to prepare to rule as the Lord Paramount of the West. It was dark when they arrived home. Sending for a servant to bring a meal up to Arthur’s rooms, Jaime goes in search of his wife. A smile stretches his lips when he thinks about the meal Celia most likely has waiting for them in their room. Thinking upon the morning meal he tried to make of her, before their newest Lannister made their presence known by upsetting its mother’s delicate stomach. Jaime wondered if his love would be up for continuing their morning dalliance.

As Jaime walked past the doors of their older children’s room, he checks to see Arthur settled at a desk consuming his evening meal like a grown man starved. “Good night, Arthur.”

“Good night, Papa.” Blonde hair falling over his Tully blue eyes...the lovely eyes of his mother. 

Stopping by Sansa’s room, he quietly opens the door to see his charming girl in bed with her latest embroidery project in hand. “Hello, my darling girl.” 

“Hello Papa. I missed you. Did you have a good journey to Lannisport?” The girl with eyes as green as his own, pulled him closer to her bed. Perching himself on the side, he answer in the affirmative. Curious as to her new project, he inquiries about it. “What is this I see? Looks like a grey pillow covering...with a white direwolf. Hmmmm...I wonder who this is for?” He teases, sadden that his eleven-year-old daughter will soon be wed in a few years, and if he had to guess her choice in husband, a young brooding Northern white wolf comes to mind.

“Oh Papa. It’s nothing.” A blush as crimson as the hair on her head, colors her face. “It’s just Jon’s next name day is coming soon. I thought to have this finished by the time we head to the Red Keep to visit the Starks,” her voice tapers off “...and Aunt Cersei and her children, of course.” Jaime notices the change in his daughter’s voice. He knows there is a separateness he can’t quite define between his true born and his..._other children_. Jaime tries not to think about them any further for it is a futile gesture. They belong to Cersei. They always have. In an effort to take the awkwardness out of the situation, Jaime bids her goodnight...with a phrase they say that is only for them, when they speak of the young Stark. “I’m sure he will love it...just as I am sure he loves you.”

“Always remember, I will love you more.” Sansa smiles, eyes clear as they had been before.

Jaime presses a kiss to her head before walking away. Taking one last look at the girl who stole a big part of his heart...surprising since falling in love with his wife...he thought there was very little left, he smiled and blew her one more kiss.

Across from their bedroom stood the nursery, Jaime marveled at the unexpected little gift that was Joanna. Her birth brought a huge revelation. Jaime Lannister was hopelessly in love with his wife. More so than he ever thought. Nothing prepares a man to face life without his soulmate, when he stands to lose the woman he loves, just as he almost did during her birthing of the small red-headed creature in this room. Doubly blessed that both survived the ordeal. Jaime walks over and gently moves a long strand of hair from her face. Staring at a visage that looks so much like her mother’s, he kisses her brow and send a prayer to the Sevens that she is his...that they both are. 

As he shuts his door, he sees Avari standing at the doorway to his room. She looks upset, a rare expression from a young woman who is typically even in her demeanor. Sensing that the cause for concern lies beyond his bedroom door, Jaime begins to feel...unsettled. “Avari, what’s wrong?” his voice firm and resolute, though resolved is not what he is feeling at this moment. Is it his wife? The babe?

“I do not know. Ce was fine this afternoon. She was writing her daily correspondence to her family. She was with Joanna for a bit, but then she asked the little one to fetch me. All Ce said was that she had, _“just received some distressing news._. She said she need time to herself and that I should keep the children away from the solar. She only stepped outside once to send a raven and a rider to Kings Landing. Jaime relaxed a fraction, for if it were something to do with the babe, then the maester would have been called. But that did not seem to be the issue, and with her sister now residing in the capital, it wouldn’t be unseemly to send a missive there. 

“Fair enough. I will see to my wife, Avari.”

As the young woman began to walk down the hall to her own set of rooms, she stops and turns to look over her shoulder. “Ser Jaime, I think you should know that she was very...upset...almost unraveled. I have never seen her like this ever. I’ve spent most of the day here, just in case, but I am not sure what I have been waiting for. Something is wrong, terribly wrong.”

Once again that unsettled feeling returned, he gestured to Avari to depart. Unsure of what awaited him in their chamber...Jaime opened the door.

\----------------

The room is dark, except for the illumination the hearth provided. She’s not even sure when she started the fire. Perhaps it had been between the umpteenth reading of her depraved and faithless husband’s letter and the writing of her own to Ned.

The door opens with a screech, a sound her husband refused to have repaired for he said it served as an early warning device for them. He told her that their time was for them...and them only. Such pretty words from a pretty man. 

“Ce? What is it, Love?” She can sense his nearness. 

He wants to know what is wrong. Where does she start? Her voice gone; she sees no way of explaining the depths of the problem before them. Looking down to see the letters in her hands. In her left she has the many notes he had written her, letters that showed what she thought was their devotion to each other. In her right she has the correspondence to his lover, a missive that puts his treason in print...all written by his own hand. She decides instead of using her words, she chooses to use his. Her voice shattered, yet even.

“_Dearest Cersei,_

_I believe a betrothal is too soon. Our son and my daughter haven’t even begun their first year of life. Let them grow up as we were not able to. Besides, perhaps they will fall in love with someone else. We shouldn’t—"_

The silence was deafening. She could swear she heard her husband’s heart shutter before it came to a full stop. Was it when she said the words _ Our son..._? Surely she thinks so for that is when her own heart ceased to work. Finding her voice again, not for herself for she cannot begin to unpack the feelings she has for his betrayal of her, she fights for her daughter...their children. 

“Shouldn’t what Jaime? Unknowingly allow half-siblings to marry each other making them as horrible and corrupted as you and your precious twin are.” Her voice beginning to rise. “Our daughter, you’d sacrifice her soul, her happiness...for your son, who by his own actions, is already immoral.” Celia stand from her perch before the fireplace, she marches to her husband...his expression ashen, eyes wide...fear etched on his beautiful face. She is yelling at this point, a mighty roar she has learned during her tutelage at House Lannister, “But then what does one expect when you look at his parents. Perhaps if you had been allowed to live your truth, instead of having a father who expected you to do your duty...as all of us are expected to do, you would be happier. Is that it? Do I have the right of it? Should the world hold you and your precious Cersei as an exemption to the realm?”

“Ce. Oh Gods. Ce. It’s not what you think.” Jaime tries to reach for her, to bring her near. The world as he has grown to know it has disappeared from below his feet and he can find no stable ground to latch on to. She steps back, her hand up, preventing him from moving forward. “Don’t! I do not want to hear your excuses. While incest is a sin by the Gods of the Seven, you might not face death for your actions now that Robert is on his deathbed and _your son_ might sit in his place for a time. But I care not to hear your excuses. I suggest you save them for the realm and eventually for your children, Ser Jaime. For word has headed to the Hand of the King, and I am sure once he receives the message, he will be on his on his way.

Panic and terror gripped Jaime as he looks at the woman he has loved for over ten years, and who he knows has loved him for longer. The knowledge that his children may learn of his deceit towards their mother and towards them makes it almost impossible for him to breath. His relationship with Cersei, dead for so long and on so many planes, will lead to the fatality and destruction of all he holds dear. All his regrets float to the surface leaving him broken and shattered knowing that he can never repair this. 

In his shame, he finds a sliver of strength to look at his wife once again. Her beautiful hair long in disarray, eyes rimmed red and dulled, lips pulled slightly downward...an expression of indifference. He did this...to her, to them. As he opens his mouth in another attempt to make her understand who he once was but was no longer, Celia turned away throwing the letters in her left hand into the fire, while she holds tightly to the correspondence in her right. Jaime watches as his greatest love departs from their solar, locking the door to their once shared bed chamber, leaving him alone with the disgraceful man he has once again become.

**Author's Note:**

> Now that's done and purged...lol.


End file.
